


Just Relax

by FruitfulMind



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: M/M, if you can call it fluff, just general fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 05:37:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8566063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FruitfulMind/pseuds/FruitfulMind
Summary: All Grif wants to do is sleep; all Simmons wants to do is be a hindrance to that.





	

It was silent and peaceful. If it wasn't for the hot and humid weather of Blood Gulch, Grif would almost say it was perfect. But the warm weather was just perfect for hiding from Sarge, even for a few hours at a time.

 

He was napping, trying to use the visor of his helmet to shut the sun's rays from his sleepy eyes. He grumbled to himself, until finally it was darker. Finally he could rest, for even a few moments. Finally.

 

“Grif! Wake up!” Called the annoying kiss-ass above him.

 

_Well, that was nice while it lasted._

 

“Why?” Grif asked bitterly, his body shifting away from the foot impeding into his shoulder armor. “The Blues aren't even attacking.”

 

“Still!” Simmons said, pushing Grif's buttons even more with his voice, “Sarge wants us to train.”

 

Grif sighed, but remained in his position on the ground. It wasn't the most comfortable position to be in, but he needed as much rest as he could get. Another hour wouldn't kill Sarge, would it? “He _always_ want us to train, Simmons; day in and day out, it's train train train.” He continued to grumble, relaxed back. The sun was starting to make his armor uncomfortably warm, but he could stand it. “I want to rest.” He said, defiantly.

 

The maroon soldier had other ideas. Grif just couldn't rest all day, there were things to do! Plans to calculate, rooms to clean, modifications for Lopez and their weapons. Grif just _could not_ rest all day. Simmons had other ideas, already leaning over the other. His hand reached out for Grif's arm, going to tug him up from the ground. The ground wasn't as steady as he wanted however, his boot grinded into the dirt, kicking it up in his stumble. By surprise, he gripped tighter onto Grif's arm, tugging it. The orange soldier gave a grumble – and then a squawk akin to Simmons' own as the man landed on top of him.

 

“Get off of me!” Grif yelled, shaking his arms to no avail. Simmons tried his best to climb back up, but the bulky armor held them both down.

 

“I'm trying! I'm trying!” Simmons yelled back at him, his voice cracking as he grew embarrassed. His lips trembled behind the helmet, trying his hardest not to cry; he did it sometimes when he grew too embarrassed. “Damn it, Grif! Why do you do this?!”

 

“Why is it always my fault?! You landed on me!” He whined and grumbled out, bitter that _of course_ Simmons would try pinning it on him – er, not that he wasn't already pinning him to the ground.

 

The initial shock began to disappear, the two men giving up the struggle as their bodies grew tired. Instead, Simmons led his head on top of Grif's shoulder, and Grif's hands shifted to a more comfortable position around Simmon's waist.

 

“You know you could have just asked if you wanted to sleep with me.” Grif said, the heavy feeling of drowsiness taking over his body. His eyes grew heavy, and he fought the yawn oncoming. Simmons straightened out against his hands, but also found himself succumbing to drowsiness.

 

Mentally, Simmons chastised himself for feeling so sleepy; it had been a long day. But there were things to do! Things to do, and sleeping wasn't one of them. But his muscles begun to comply with the steady strokes from the other, for once he didn't tense up from the ministrations. Maybe five minutes of rest wouldn't be _too_ bad.

 

“Just relax.” Grif cooed against the side of his head, stroking down Simmons' back lightly. Grif's fingers lingered against Simmons once more, instead choosing to snuggle his helmet against the other's shoulder. This position sucks, Grif thought, his visor peeking lightly over Simmons' already resting body. _Fuck it._ He continued cuddling Simmons up, once again falling into a peaceful slumber. This would be the best nap.


End file.
